If Nancy Survived?
by LauraKatharineX
Summary: Everyone knows how Nancy's story ends, but what if it ended differently? (Rated T for references to violence and possible romance later on...)
1. Chapter 1

**_So as to not disrupt the original storyline more than necessary, this begins with Nancy miraculously surviving Bill's beating at the end of the book. I've not much idea of where it's going to go from here, but I hope you'll enjoy whatever does happen!_**

~ CHAPTER 1 ~

She felt her eyes crease open before she screwed them shut again as a searing pain roared through her head. Bringing a shaking hand up to her temple, she felt around for any damage. Wincing, she opened her eyes and inspected her hand and observed the smears of dark blood with a grim fascination. She wiped her fingers without ceremony on the rug he'd draped over her and heaved herself into a sitting position. Feeling her head throb with the movement, she just sat for a few moments and tried to focus.

No, she wouldn't let herself think about what had happened. She desperately urged all images of his contorted face and enraged eyes out of her head, sniffed and slowly edged herself onto her knees. Pushing the rug into a crumpled heap on the floorboards, she unfolded herself until she was standing as straight as was possible. Wiping a few fresh dribbles of blood from her cheek, she made her unsteady way over to the window. The curtains were still drawn. He'd drawn them. Taking a deep breath, she eased them apart, squinting as the morning sunlight flooded the room.

She turned to survey the evidence of the night before. A gas lamp lay smashed next to their bed. His voice echoed in her head and she clamped her hands over her ears in a vain attempt to quieten it.

 _There's light enough for what I've got to do._

Shaking her head with a ferocity which made her wound sting even more, she kicked the gas lamp under the bed, scraping the remaining shards of glass with her bare foot so they fell through the cracks in the floorboard. She rolled her shoulders back and tilted her head to either side, feeling her weary bones creak. This burst of activity had made her a little woozy.

Doing her best to ignore the steady waves of dizziness churning her insides, she walked over to where a bucket of water sat against the wall. She knelt down in front of it and scooped some of the water up in her hands and washed her face. It stung as it splashed against her injuries, but was otherwise soothing. She cupped her hands again, retrieved more water and took a drink. However, this only made the churning in her stomach worse and with a groan, she leant over to the side of the bucket and vomited.

She retched and felt her eyes prickle. Leaning back on her heels, she wiped away her hot tears with the back of her bruised hands, stopping only when she heard a tapping at the door.

'Nancy? You ready?'

Nancy couldn't find her voice. She sniffed, blinked and glanced upwards at the ceiling before hauling herself to a standing position. She brushed herself down, then ran a hand through her tangled hair. Picking the bucket up, she sluiced a little water over the floor to clean up, taking a few deep breaths. The knocking came again, then the door creaked as it was pushed open.

'Nance?'

In the doorway stood Bet. Nancy turned around to look at her with glistening eyes. The young girl cried out when she saw her state and ran into the room.

'Oh my God! What happened?'

'I – I… I don't know,' Nancy croaked, feeling the pressure in her throat build as a new onset of tears threatened. She placed the bucket back on the floor and sniffed again.

'He did this? To you?' Bet stood in front of her friend and looked darkly into her eyes.

All Nancy could do was nod. Then a strangled sob forced its way out of her throat and she collapsed into Bet's open arms. The girl held her for a few moments, bewildered, then pulled away to look at her again. She wiped Nancy's tears away with her thumb and nodded, her mouth in a determined line.

'We need to get you out. Come on. Come with me.'

'It's a mess, Bet. I've made such a mess.'

'It doesn't matter, Nance. We need to get you away.'

Nancy pointed to her shawl, which lay draped over a chair from the night before. Bet nodded and grabbed it, wrapping it tightly around Nancy's shoulders. She then noticed that the girl wasn't wearing shoes, so grabbed her boots from the corner of the room and guided her feet into them, not bothering with the laces. She stood up and took Nancy's hands firmly.

'Right. Come on, quickly.'

Bet ushered Nancy out of the room before allowing herself to fully look at the scene. It was dreadful. She balked at the smears of blood on the floor and the torn curtains around the bed, quickly stepped out of the room and slammed the door behind her. Shaking her head, she took Nancy's hand in hers and wrapped her free arm around her hunched shoulders, then led her out of the building.

The girls walked with haste through the streets, ignoring the puzzled glances of passers-by. Nancy stared solely at her feet, barely summoning the strength to move one in front of the other. She leant heavily against Bet's shoulder, but the girl managed to hold her up well enough; she'd always been a strong one.

Eventually, Bet's lodgings crept into view. She led Nancy into her room and lowered her onto the bed, before pulling up a chair and sitting down in front of her, taking her hands in hers.

'How do you feel?' she asked her.

'Dizzy. Like my head's full of bees.'

'You need to eat something. I'll get you something. You just sit down.'

Bet stood up from the chair and ransacked her bag. She couldn't offer much except a bread bun and an apple, but it was better than nothing.

'Here, eat. Then you can focus better.'

Nancy took the food and offered Bet a weak smile. She glanced down at the bread and apple in her hands and blinked a couple of times as her vision started to cloud. She felt icy cold and burning heat simultaneously. She lost the strength to sit up and slumped to one side, hearing the echo of Bet crying 'Nancy!' as she went.


	2. Chapter 2

~ CHAPTER 2 ~

The feeling of ice-cold water slapping her skin revived Nancy and she came to, spluttering.

'You fainted,' Bet informed her, her voice low and uncertain.

Nancy nodded, rolled over and heaved herself into a sitting position, clutching her side. Before, all she could feel was the throbbing in her head: now that that had subsided a little, she became aware of pain in her side, in her arms, in her legs, in her neck. Her whole body hurt. She sniffed miserably.

'You scared me, Nance,' Bet continued, sitting down in her chair again and leaning forward with the bread roll and apple, 'You need to eat.'

Nancy nodded again and took the bread. She was simultaneously hungry and completely lacking in appetite. She nibbled on one end of the bread roll, and felt her mouth ache with the anticipation of food. Then, she tore into it with an immediate voracity, finding herself ravenous.

'That's better,' Bet said with pride. She offered her the apple and Nancy grabbed it, having devoured the bread roll in a matter of seconds. Without pause, she bit into it and took nearly half the apple in one bite.

'Blimey. Anyone would think you'd never had a meal in your life.'

'I've had a lot on my mind, Bet. Having much felt like eating.'

Bet nodded and watched with wide eyes as Nancy finished the apple and then twirled the core between her fingers, apparently contemplating whether she could eat that as well. She decided against it and tossed it lightly out of the window, before reaching up to her temple and touching it tentatively. It was still wet with blood.

'We need to bandage that up, Nance,' Bet told her, standing up and setting about finding a suitable piece of material. She picked up a tattered old scarf from where it hung over her fireplace and shook it gently.

'I washed this just last night so it'll be clean. It'll have to do for now.'

'But Bet, you love that scarf.'

'You think I care more about an old scarf than I do you?'

Nancy shrugged and smiled at her. Bet marched over and began wrapping the scarf around the girl's head, muttering profuse apologies as she did so; Nancy was wincing. She tied the ends together in a large knot then stood back to survey her work.

'How do I look?' Nancy asked her, reclining on the bed and grinning.

'Awful, Nance. I won't lie,' Bet answered with a chuckle.

The two girls then became serious. Nancy reached up to feel the scarf wrapped tightly around her head, focused her gaze on the floor, and sighed heavily. Bet hugged her elbows and looked at her, before finally building the confidence to ask:

'What happened, Nance?'

'I don't want to talk about it.'

'But Nance –'

'Just leave it, Bet.'

'But he's still out there –'

'I just – don't want to talk about it. I don't want to _think_ about it. Not now.'

Bet looked at her for a few moments before finally nodding, though her mouth was still twisted in worry. She hated this. A small part of her had expected it, although her nervous warnings always fell on deaf ears. Nancy had always been a sort of guardian to her, taking care of her and making sure she was happy. Now, she was tiny and child-like in her red dress, twisting her hands in her lap. Bet edged over to sit down next to her and wrapped a tentative arm around her, wary of hurting her. Nancy flicked away a tear from her cheek and leant her head on Bet's shoulder. She was trembling.

 _ **Bit of a short one but this was mostly a filler chapter. I'm really not sure where this is going (you can probably tell) but do bear with me!**_


	3. Chapter 3

***pokes head out of a proverbial doorway* Sorry I haven't updated in so long! Life's got away with me a bit recently; I've been buried with PGCE applications. However, thanks to the lovely reviews left on Chapter 2, I've decided to try to push on! Thank you for sticking with me on this, I've got a few more ideas of where I want it to go (though I always welcome suggestions) and I really hope you enjoy it!**

~ CHAPTER 3 ~

'Nance?'

Nancy had burrowed her head into the crook of Bet's neck, and was quiet.

'Nance, I'm going to go out and get some more food. I'll make you some soup?'

A non-committal grunt was the reply.

'I might need my shoulder back though, Nance,' Bet whispered.

Nancy heaved a sigh and leaned off of her shoulder.

'Okay,' she said, making an enormous effort to smile, 'I'll come with you.'

Bet shook her head, 'No. You need to stay here. You promise me that you'll stay here, okay? Where I know you're safe.'

Nancy met Bet's gaze with wet eyes and furrowed her brow, 'I – I don't _want_ to stay here. I want to come with you.'

But Bet wasn't shifting, 'No, Nancy. You're injured and you need rest. You're staying here.' She stood up, looking uncharacteristically firm. Nancy shrunk further inside of herself and nodded in defeat. Bet softened slightly and smiled at her, leaning forward to tuck a wayward strand of the girl's curly hair behind her ear.

'I won't be long, I promise; I'm just going to the market. You'll be just fine.'

With that, Bet gathered her shawl, tossed a few coins from her bedside table into her pocket, smiled at Nancy again and left the room. Nancy puffed her cheeks out and leant back on the bed, tilting her head from side to side and feeling her neck creak. She hated being alone.

She heaved herself up from the bed and wandered around the room, surveying the sparse furnishings and dusty floorboards. She had never had much opportunity to visit Bet's lodgings; _he_ always wanted her at their home, making his food, and if she wasn't at home she was out working.

A speckled mirror hung on the wall adjacent to the door. Nancy approached it and peered at her reflection. _Lord_ , she looked a mess. Splotches of purple shadowed her under-eyes, and despite Bet's tight bandaging of her head, a few trickles of blood had made their unwelcome way down her cheek. She dabbed at them with a corner of her sleeve, frowning, and then turned to face the window. The streets were busying as the day drew on to mid-morning. Nancy surveyed the crowds as they bustled along the cobbled street, wrapped in scraggly scarves and battered hats. She felt a tug of envy in her stomach. Today, for them, was like any other day. Completely ordinary.

Her eyes were dry from lack of sleep. She wondered about having a nap and went about curling up on Bet's bed. She screwed her eyes shut but shot them open again when the sight of his contorted face seared across her mind's eye. Whimpering quietly, she rolled over to lie on her back and gaze at the cracked ceiling above her. She hummed a timid tune in some sort of attempt to calm herself, but it was no use. She twisted her hands together in her lap and bit her lip as fresh, hot tears tracked down the side of her face. Wiping them away, she sniffed hard and sat up again. For a while, she slouched on the edge of Bet's bed, staring fixedly at the floor. Then, she tied up the laces on her boots, stood up, and grabbed her shawl from where she'd left it on the floor. She returned to the mirror and draped the shawl over her head in attempt to hide the bandage. Glancing back at the empty room, she walked through the doorway and shut the door quietly behind her. Taking a steadying breath, she exited the building in search of… well, she wasn't quite sure what.

She hunched her shoulders against the chill of the morning air. She felt like everyone was staring at her, commenting on her mess of a face, her bruised arms, her torn dress – whether they actually were or not was of no consequence. Despite the paranoid feelings churning in her stomach, it was somewhat pleasant to be outside. She always felt freer outside.

It wasn't long before she arrived at the market, which was already bustling with crowds of people and humming with the calls of the vendors. Nancy hid behind her scarf, avoiding people's gaze; people knew her here, and she wanted to avoid any questions. She just wanted to find Bet. She needed her. The calls of a nearby newspaper-seller came into earshot, and Nancy strained to hear him over everything else. She could make out odd phrases: "shot dead", "accidentally hanged". Edging closer, she heard a third phrase which made her blood run cold. "William Sykes".

She reached out weakly to take a newspaper from the seller, and scanned her eyes over the front page. The words swam in front of eyes. It was a simple headline, in a way, concise and to-the-point: "William Sykes shot dead". Her hands gripped the edges of the newspaper, crumpling them. Her breath caught in her throat and she staggered a little to the side.

'You alright, love?' a nearby voice asked.

'Here, is that Nancy?'

'Oh God, it _is_ Nancy!'

Nancy shook her head and dropped the newspaper to the ground. She couldn't speak. She felt dizzy, she felt sick, she felt everything all at once. It was too much. The bees had returned to her head. Her vision was clouding again. Her knees buckled underneath her and the last thing she remembered seeing was the blurred image of Bet sprinting towards her.


	4. Chapter 4

~ CHAPTER 4 ~

Nancy awoke and blearily looked around her. She didn't know where she was. This wasn't her home, or Bet's home. It was white, pure white, and its starkness made her tired eyes ache. She wondered for a moment whether this was Heaven, that she'd finally died in the London streets and this was the afterlife. She noticed that she too was dressed in a white gown, her red dress nowhere to be seen. Puzzled, she turned her head to the side and squinted at the vision of a figure moving towards her, also dressed in white. An angel? Their facial features were indistinguishable and Nancy tried to lean forward in attempt to make them out, but the all-too-familiar pain in her body made its unwelcome return, and she thought better of it.

'Oh, good. You're awake.'

It was the voice of a woman. Gentle, yet self-assured. Nancy felt comforted by the sound of it and relaxed into the pillow, breathing slowly. Her head was throbbing faintly; she reached a hand up to her temple tentatively and felt a tight bandage there.

'How are you feeling?'

The woman was leaning over her, placing a warm hand on her forehead. Nancy blinked a few times and her face finally came into focus. It was a kind face, belonging to a woman who was perhaps a little older than Nancy was. She had wide-set, pale eyes, and dimples. Nancy felt the corners of her mouth twitch upwards into a small smile.

'Sore,' she mumbled, sniffing, 'Where am I?'

'St. Bartholomew's. You've been here since yesterday morning.'

Nancy nodded slowly. She looked around her at the other beds, most occupied with sleeping patients.

'Now you're awake, I'll need to examine you. I need to get a full idea of your injuries.'

Nancy nodded again.

The nurse scanned her eyes over Nancy's body, gently prodding her grazes and bruises, muttering apologies in response to Nancy's pained whimpers. She then frowned slightly, and firmly pressed two fingers into Nancy's side.

'Jesus Christ,' Nancy hissed, instinctively twisting away from the nurse's hands and screwing her eyes shut. The nurse tutted in sympathy.

'Just as I thought. A broken rib. We'll need to strap that up. You've really been through the mill, my dear.'

The nurse provided a running commentary as she completed her examination, but Nancy barely listened to her. Her words were muted and meaningless, and Nancy kept her eyes fixed on the ceiling.

'And I think you likely have a concussion,' the nurse finished. Nancy flicked her eyes over to look at her.

'Hmm?'

'A concussion.'

Nancy frowned and twisted her mouth, feeling sheepish, 'I – I don't know what a concussion is. A concussion?' The word was alien, feeling strange as she formed it. If it was an explanation for how she'd been feeling for the past day or so, however, then she concluded that it was probably bad news.

The nurse smiled kindly at her, 'Well, do you feel dizzy? Sick?'

Nancy nodded, 'Yeah. Yeah… I fainted too. Yesterday, I mean.'

'That may have been to do with the blood loss. But the dizziness and sickness will be a concussion. They should pass within a few days, all being well.'

Nancy frowned as she took all this in. The nurse made moves to stand up, but Nancy reached for her arm before she did so.

'How did I get here?'

'Oh, a gentleman and young girl came with you in the ambulance. The girl was very keen to stay with you but you needed your rest. She'll be around to visit soon, I suppose. She said she was your sister.'

Nancy felt a tug in her heart at that last sentence and smiled, leaning back against her pillow once more. The nurse nodded in approval, before standing up.

'I'm going to fetch a bandage to strap around your ribs, to support them while they heal.'

Nancy watched her as she did as she said then returned to her side.

'Can you try and sit up?'

Nancy nodded and heaved herself up with enormous effort until she was propped against the pillow. The nurse asked her to lift her gown so that she could tie the bandage. Nancy did so and turned her back towards her, feeling exposed. The nurse began wrapping the bandage around her, keeping it tight against her skin. It was uncomfortable, at times painful, and Nancy grimaced. Eventually, the bandage was applied and she could lower her gown. She lay back down in the bed again and watched after the nurse as she went to attend to the other patients, along with the other nurses.

Her dizziness was significantly reduced from the day before, but she could feel it still lurking behind her eyes. Her body still ached all over, but the crispness of her clean nightdress and bed sheets made her feel a little better about it. She inspected her arms, speckled with blue and black, and then peeked under the covers at her legs, which looked much the same. She puffed her cheeks out and looked up at the ceiling again, crossing her hands over her stomach and tuning in to her breathing.

And then she remembered. The newspaper. Feeling her skin prickle, she pictured the words on the ceiling.

 **WILLIAM SYKES SHOT DEAD**

She blinked rapidly. She breathed in. She breathed out. She struggled to decide what she was feeling. Sadness? Perhaps. Happiness? Relief? A myriad of emotions began to build a pressure in her chest. The man who had been her companion since she was a jaded thirteen-year-old. The man who gave her somewhere to live, who provided for her. Nancy closed her eyes and bunched her hands into fists.

The man who had tried to kill her.

Her stomach lurched at the realisation and she tried to fight it, but she knew. He'd hit her before, of course. Usually after too many drinks and a bad shift. It was how he got his frustration out. If he didn't hit her, he'd have to hit the dog, and that was never an option. He loved that bloody dog. But this time was different. The visions of that night were fuzzy, but they collected in her mind unwarranted, and Nancy was forced to study them against her will.

She remembered him bellowing at her, swearing, pulling at her hair and clothes. Blind to her tears and deaf to her sobs as she fought to defend herself. He'd hit her everywhere. Nancy bit her lip as a strangled cry erupted from her throat, and felt hot tears track down her cheeks. She remembered him kicking, punching, hitting. He'd aimed at her head, and that must have been what knocked her out. That must have been when he stopped.

It was only now that she questioned herself for putting up with it all. She thought it was because she loved him, but that feeling left a sour taste in her mouth. Perhaps it was the softer side of him that came after his drunken fits. The way he was gentle with her, holding her close in his strong arms and muttering apologies in her ear. That was what made her stay. _That_ Bill. He could be protective, fiercely so, and she liked that. She'd lived her life on the streets and was hardened to what they threw at her, but having someone to take care of her, however poorly, seemed better than nothing.

Nancy took breath after shaking breath, feeling the pressure in her chest grow heavier. She couldn't seem to lift it. She pushed the heels of her hands into her eyes, rubbing furiously until they ached and blackened her vision. Her cries echoed around the ward, disturbing the other patients, but she paid them no attention. She paid no attention to the voices in the doorway, nor to the gathering pairs of eyes which watched her in bewilderment. Her body shook with racking sobs. She could barely breathe. She couldn't stop. Soon, she felt arms around her and collapsed against someone's chest, clinging to them.

'Nancy, calm down. Breathe.'

'I can't – I –'

Bet's voice shushed her gently, and Nancy felt her hand stroking her hair, whilst the other was wrapped tight around her shoulder. Her sobs dissolved away to little more than hiccups, but the pressure in her chest hadn't lessened.

'There now,' Bet murmured, holding Nancy's face in her cool hands and wiping away the tears with her thumb. 'You're free.'

Nancy somehow summoned the strength to give her a watery smile, before huddling against her shoulder once more. Bet's arms wrapped around her and rocked her gently.

'What you staring at?' Nancy heard Bet bark at who she guessed was another patient.

'Mr Brownlow came with me to bring you here,' Bet whispered to Nancy, 'When you collapsed in the street, I ran to the first gentleman I could find. Ain't it lucky it was him? I didn't _know_ it was, of course, I'd not met him before. But I told him what happened and he explained who he was. I knew he'd want to help you. He's a right proper gentleman, he is.'

Nancy listened to Bet's patter and closed her eyes, smiling again. She pictured Mr Brownlow: his kindly face and his fatherly concern for Oliver. _Oh, Christ_. Oliver. Poor little mite.

'What about Oliver?' Nancy asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

'He's fine, Nance. Just fine. The Peelers broke up Fagin's place and took him back to Mr Brownlow.'

'Fagin…'

'They got him, Nance. Arrested him.'

Nancy flinched. She'd resented Fagin for the way her life had turned out, but a small part of her remained grateful to him for taking her in when she was a child. He'd fed her and given her shelter; and that was surely better than the dangers of the streets, however crooked the arrangement may have been. Now he'd been arrested, it was over. The man who'd been something like a father to her, she'd likely never see again. She and Bet held each other in a sombre silence for a few moments, neither sure what to say to the other. They were interrupted by the nurse returning with a bowl of steaming soup, and Nancy reluctantly sat back against her pillows to take it from her. Bet squeezed her shoulder and stood up, saying she'd be back to visit later on, and left Nancy alone.

Nancy peered down at her soup, prodding the lumps of potato and carrot around the bowl. She wasn't remotely hungry, but she managed a few measly mouthfuls before abandoning the bowl on her bedside table and lying down. She didn't much feel like sleeping either, but there was little else to do. Taking as deep a breath as her strapped-up ribs would allow, she pulled the covers up to her chin and closed her eyes.

 ** _Hope you enjoyed – a slightly longer chapter this time to make up for not updating in so long (I checked, it was six months between chapters two and three… oops)_**


	5. Chapter 5

**_Just a little disclaimer: I realise that the likelihood of Nancy surviving Bill's beating as it is originally written i.e. mostly aimed at her head, is incredibly slim. Therefore, I reworked it slightly (as seen at the end of chapter 4) to be more of an all-body thing, with him taking one strike at her head, which knocks her out, which makes him stop as he thinks she's dead. I'm by no means a medical expert, but I *THINK* a beating such as this is survivable. Definitely still horrendous, but survivable. Blimey, this turned into a pretty dark disclaimer, but I've had a couple of people be puzzled, so I hope I've cleared things up a bit!_**

~ CHAPTER 5 ~

For a few fuzzy hours, Nancy drifted in and out of sleep. She remained for the most part in the misty space between consciousness and unconsciousness, never certain whether what she saw when she peeked through her half-closed eyes was a dream or reality. She watched blearily as the nurse came to take away her abandoned bowl of soup, tutting quietly in mild disapproval. Her eyes felt weighted down. And her ribs hurt. She puffed her cheeks out, gave up on sleep entirely and sat up.

Her bed was sat next to an open window. She awkwardly shifted her position to gaze out of it at the streets outside, which were darkening gradually with the onset of evening. The dusky sunlight glistened on the cobbles and the gentle hum of the conversations of passers-by was lulling. Nancy was soon drawn out of her thoughts abruptly by the nurse walking again to her bedside and closing the window.

'It's getting colder now. The last thing you need is to catch a chill,' the nurse explained, adjusting Nancy's bedsheets as she spoke. 'You have a visitor,' she added, 'Are you feeling able?'

Nancy shrugged, 'As able as I ever will, I suppose. Who is it?'

'The gentleman who brought you here, by the name of Mr Brownlow.'

'Oh,' Nancy felt a knot of nerves form in her stomach, 'Alright, I'll see him.'

The nurse looked uncertain but walked away. When she returned, she was closely followed by Mr Brownlow. He was dressed smartly and carried his top hat in one hand and his cane in the other. His face wore a concerned expression, but a kindly one, and Nancy felt herself relax somewhat. The nurse gestured to her bed and Mr Brownlow walked up to Nancy's side, gazing down at her with twinkling grey eyes.

'Hello, Nancy,' he greeted with a small nod of his silver-haired head.

'Hello, sir,' Nancy replied, doing her best to emulate his rounded tone of voice.

Mr Brownlow rocked forwards and backwards on his feet before endeavouring to hang his hat and cane on the back of a nearby chair. He pulled the chair up behind him and sat down, clasping his hands in his lap and giving Nancy an encouraging smile.

'How are you?'

'I'm not so bad, sir, thank you. I'll be alright.'

Mr Brownlow nodded, his eyes scanning her bandages and bruises. Nancy felt conscious of how battered she must have looked, and swept her hair around so it sat in curls about her shoulders in some sort of half-hearted attempt to look presentable. She twiddled her thumbs together in her lap, thinking desperately of something interesting to say.

'I – I, uh, I wanted to thank you, Nancy,' Mr Brownlow began, speaking slowly and carefully, 'I don't think we would have been able to find Oliver again if not for you.'

Nancy smiled in his direction, not meeting his eyes. It was a delicate situation, to say the least. The pair of them decided against mentioning that Nancy's state could be assuredly tracked to her wanting to help Oliver. It didn't need mentioning.

'You're welcome, sir,' Nancy mumbled finally, shrugging her shoulders. 'How is Oliver, sir?' she added.

'He's quite well. A little unsettled by all this…' Mr Brownlow fixed his eyes on the ceiling as he searched for the right word, '…unpleasantness, but otherwise fine.'

'Good. I'm glad,' Nancy said, meaning it.

'I think he'd be very keen to see you,' Mr Brownlow suggested, leaning forward in his seat slightly.

Nancy laughed quietly. 'Not like this, sir, he wouldn't,' she said, 'The poor boy would have nightmares.'

Mr Brownlow chuckled and shook his head. 'Of course, not while you're recovering. I think it's probably best to wait until you're back on your feet again. You seem a sturdy young lady, I'm sure you'll be fully recovered in no time at all.'

'I do hope so, sir,' Nancy said with a determined nod.

The pair of them looked at each other for a moment or two, neither quite sure what to say to the other. Nancy readjusted her bedsheets, fiddled with her hair, and prodded at her bruises, feeling profoundly uncomfortable. People like him just didn't associate with people like her, and she was completely clueless as to how to talk to him or how to hold herself. The gentleman fumbled around in his coat pocket and produced a slip of paper. He handed it to Nancy and she took it in her hands to inspect it.

'My address. I do hope we'll see you, when you're well again,' Mr Brownlow said with a smile as he got to his feet. He gave one last nod to Nancy before picking up his hat and cane, and making his way to the doorway. He turned to smile at her one last time before walking through it, and then he was gone. Nancy perused the slip of paper in her hands, scanning the extravagant handwriting with a furrowed brow. She was not a particularly fluent reader, but she knew a wealthy address when she saw one.

 _375 Kensington High Street_

 _Kensington_

 _London_

She had never been to his house. Her meetings with him, and Rose Maylie, had been held in alleyways and inconspicuous corners. Nancy recalled her first meeting with Rose, the niece of Mrs Maylie, whose house Bill had taken Oliver to burgle. They had met at Claridge's, a grandiose spectacle of a building which Nancy felt firmly out of place in; this was a feeling which further established itself with every furrowed brow and sneering mouth she gained from the hotel staff as she asked politely where Miss Rose Maylie's room was. Rose had been kind to her, however, and patient, and had gently listened to her while she explained everything. Nancy pictured her fine clothing, no doubt made more so by the graceful figure on which it sat, with its sloping shoulders and elegant neck. She remembered comparing herself to Rose, finding it curious how two girls of roughly the same age could have led quite such contrasting lives.

Nancy was wrenched from her thoughts by the nurse tapping her shoulder. She shook her head lightly, folded the slip of paper up and held it tight in her hand.

'I've brought you some more soup,' the nurse told her, holding a steaming bowl in her hand, 'And I really think you should eat it,' she added with a small smile. Nancy nodded, feeling her stomach growl. She took the bowl from the nurse and held it under her chin, allowing the tendrils of stream to gently touch her tired face. Closing her eyes, she inhaled deeply and felt her insides warm. Brandishing her spoon, she finished the soup in a few hungry mouthfuls. She stopped herself before she could abandon the spoon completely and tip the bowl into her mouth like a cup, deciding instead to scrape the spoon firmly across every inch of the bowl in order to get every last drop.

Mr Brownlow's address sat in her lap, still folded up. Nancy put the spoon and practically de-varnished bowl on her bedside table and picked up the slip of paper, turning it around in her hands. She decided that as soon as she was well again, she would visit Mr Brownlow, and see Oliver again. She felt an affectionate tug in her stomach at the thought. Yes, she'd definitely like to see Oliver again.


	6. Chapter 6

~ CHAPTER 6 ~

Nancy remained a patient in St. Bartholomew's hospital for three more days. Bet visited at least once a day; she kept Nancy company, comforted her, and listened to her while she muttered about how insufferably bored she was. Being practically bed-bound for nearly a week had caused Nancy a great amount of chagrin, perhaps more so even than her injuries had. She surveyed her bruises now with a certain amount of pragmatism; they had faded to a dirty yellow and the frightened churnings in her stomach created when she first saw them had faded too. Her head was finally healed sufficiently enough to be un-bandaged. Her bloody ribs still hurt, though.

On the morning she was due to be discharged, the nurse walked over to Nancy's bedside with a familiar red, neatly folded dress. She placed them on a nearby chair and held out her hands for Nancy to lean on as she heaved herself out of bed.

'Now, you're still recovering, so be sure to tread carefully,' the nurse warned, gripping Nancy's hands tightly, 'I mean this in the nicest possible way, but I'd be most glad if you didn't have to return here.'

Nancy chuckled at the nurse's dry wit, having grown accustomed to it (and, admittedly, rather fond of it) during her stay. 'I'll do my best,' she said with a confident grin. The nurse released Nancy's hands and she stood shakily on her feet. The girl turned up her chin and rolled her shoulders back, feeling fresh and repaired. She watched as the nurse wheeled over a screen, giving her privacy while she dressed herself.

Her red dress slipped easily on with a comforting familiarity. It smelled of soap and lavender, and the threadbare patches in its underarms had been neatly stitched up. Nancy couldn't remember a time when it had looked cleaner, not even when she had first acquired it. She smoothed out its plump crimson skirts and smiled, before reaching down to retrieve Mr Brownlow's address from where she had kept it, hidden away under her pillow. She also collected her shawl and boots, and Bet's scarf, from the chair the nurse had left them on. The warm wool was pulled fast around her shoulders, her boots were laced tightly, and Nancy was ready to venture out onto the streets of London once more. Then a thought struck her and she plonked down on her bed again.

The nurse walked over to wheel the screen away and gave Nancy a puzzled glance. 'Everything alright, dear?' she questioned, walking over to the girl's side.

Nancy scuffed her heels on the floor and twisted her hands together in her lap. 'I – um. I can't – I don't think I can pay anything,' she said quietly, feeling her face heat.

Giving her a comforting squeeze on her shoulder, the nurse leaned down and whispered, 'That's all been taken care of, my dear. Mr Brownlow made a generous donation on your behalf.'

The girl flicked her eyes up to meet the nurse's in surprise. 'Really?' she gasped.

'Really,' the nurse replied with a chuckle, 'He insisted that you be given the best possible care, and that your clothes be laundered and mended.'

Nancy could do nothing but smile in mild bewilderment.

The first thing Nancy did when she left St. Bartholomew's was visit Bet. She was greeted with a hug which nearly catapulted her back into the street and an onslaught of questions which were largely some variation of 'Are you alright?'

'I'm just glad to be outside again,' Nancy said, gingerly patting her ribs as she wandered around Bet's room. Bet perched on the edge of her bed as she listened to her friend, taking notice of how her injuries had now faded away to little more than the occasional shadow on her skin. She then moved her attention to Nancy's clothes, and twisted her mouth in curiosity.

'Nance, is that a _new_ dress?' Bet questioned once Nancy had finished speaking.

Nancy grinned in delight and ran over to sit next to Bet, taking her hands in hers. 'It's my old one, but Mr Brownlow had them clean it and mend it. Don't it look smart? I don't think it looked nicer than this even when I bought the bloody thing. He's been so kind, Bet,' she continued in earnest, 'Far kinder than he maybe should be, to someone like me.'

'Someone like you…' Bet repeated, scoffing, 'What do you mean, someone like you? After all you did for that boy, you're a bloody saint.'

Nancy laughed at her, shrugging her shoulders. 'I don't know. I just thought Oliver deserved better, that's all. He wants me to visit, Mr Brownlow that is. He gave me his address,' Nancy reached into her pocket to retrieve the slip of paper, 'Here, look.'

Bet looked, frowning at the swirly handwriting, 'Kens- Kensington?' she said slowly, stumbling over the word, 'Where the toffs live?'

'The very same. Oh, Bet, he's like _royalty_.'

'When will you go and visit him then?'

'I don't know. In a few days, maybe. Bet…' Nancy was suddenly more subdued, looking down at Bet's hands clasped in her own.

'Mm?' Bet replied, tilting her head in attempt to meet Nancy's gaze.

'Is it alright if I stay with you for a while? I – I don't think I can go back home. Not yet.'

Bet tucked a finger under Nancy's chin to bring her eyes up to meet hers, 'Of course you can, you daft thing.'

The two girls embraced for a few moments. When they pulled away, Bet stood up and set about cooking some food. 'I'm sorry that it's soup again. That's all I've got in,' she mumbled as she plonked a rusted saucepan on her rickety stove, 'I picked up some nice bread rolls this morning though, to have with it. Is that alright?'

Nancy rolled her eyes in mock annoyance and giggled, 'That's fine, Bet. Can I help?'

'You could chop the vegetables?'

And so she did.

After lunch, the girls sat in quiet companionship for an hour or two before deciding to take a stroll outside. Nancy surveyed her reflection in the mirror and grimaced. She hadn't set eyes on her head injury since the morning of the day she fainted in the market. It had scabbed over and was slightly swollen, with an angry line of stitches emblazoned amidst yellowish bruising. _What a mess_ , she thought. Then, she caught the eye of Bet's reflection, staring steadily at her wound with narrowed eyes.

'Is that going to be alright?' Bet asked.

'I mean, it looks awful and stings a bit, but otherwise it's not too bad,' Nancy replied airily, running a gentle finger along the stitches and frowning.

'Okay,' Bet said finally, still sounding unsure.

Nancy turned to her and smiled as confidently as she could. 'If anyone asks, I'll say I walked into a door,' she announced with a nonchalant shrug of the shoulders as she retrieved her shawl from the floor.

'It'd have to have been a door made of cast iron…' Bet murmured, picking up her own shawl from the bed and wrapping it around her shoulders. Once both girls were ready, they left the building with their arms interlinked and walked in companionable silence along the busying streets. It came as something of a relief to both of them that no one questioned the state of Nancy's head; in this part of London, bumps and bruises were rather more commonplace.

They made their way towards the market and Bet noticed Nancy stiffen.

'Are you alright, Nance? We can go a different way?'

'No, no. I'm alright. Let's just hope I don't hear more bad news,' Nancy said with a quiet laugh.

They continued on. The market looked much the same as it had as the day she'd found out about Bill. It was crowded, pungent, and loud, a raucous symphony of shouting vendors and the creaking wheels of wooden carts. Nancy pressed herself closer into Bet's side and bit her lip, her eyes scanning every which way. Bet responded by wrapping a strong arm around Nancy's shoulders and grasping her trembling hands with her own. She led them over to a stall which sold fruit and vegetables.

Nancy stood idly next to Bet as she purchased apples, pears, carrots and potatoes. She scanned her eyes around the crowd, avoiding eye contact with anyone who looked in her direction, then felt a something gently prodding at her shins. She flinched, looked down, and gasped as a scruffy, skinny little dog gazed back up at her.

'Bullseye?'

The dog panted and wagged his tail. Nancy crouched down to his level and held his weathered face in her hands. He looked like he hadn't eaten in days. His ribs jutted out from his sides and his legs were roped with sinew. Nancy tutted soothingly as she stroked him, shifting slightly as Bet squatted down next to her with wide eyes.

'Blimey, old Bullseye's still knocking around, is he?' Bet whispered, scratching the dog behind his ears.

'He must be starving, Bet. Look how skinny he is. He needs meat.'

Bet nodded and got to her feet, wandering over to the meat stall. Nancy watched as she haggled with the vendor and eventually returned with a handsome side of beef, looking triumphant. 'He gave me it cheap as it was going to go bad soon anyway,' she explained with a grin, 'We'll have stew tonight. That should fatten him up good and proper.'

Nancy nodded, stood up and the two girls walked back to Bet's lodgings. Bullseye trotted at their heels, looking particularly interested in the chunk of meat Bet carried. They made their way into Bet's bedroom and the girl's sat next to each other on the bed, looking at Bullseye as he sat expectantly in front of them, his head cocked to one side and his ears pricked up.

'What are we going to do with him?' Bet asked finally, 'I can barely feed myself these days, never mind a dog.'

'I don't know,' Nancy answered, puffing her cheeks out, 'Maybe one of the innkeepers would take him.'

Bet nodded.

That night, the girls curled up together on the narrow bed, with Bullseye curled up at their feet. Nancy felt peaceful, and safe in falling asleep. She still saw a faded glimpse of Bill's face when she closed her eyes, but it was weak and less invasive, and Nancy felt her breathing become steady and slow. She tucked herself neatly into Bet's side and thought of nothing but her breathing. In, and out, and in, and out.

 ** _Hope you enjoyed! I've been toying with the idea of reintroducing Bullseye for a while now so decided to go for it – I hope that was the right choice! Also, I will do my best to upload weekly but most likely it will be every two weeks; I've just started a new job and it's using a lot of my brain energy! Do let me know what you think of how everything's going so far (I admit that I'm partly making it up as I go along)._**


	7. Chapter 7

**_Just wanted to give some love to Honkytonkangel, who's left a review on every chapter so far which has been very lovely, so thank you very much! Sorry for it being a bit of wait for this chapter… I've been pretty busy lately and struggled finding inspiration *but* I hope you enjoy it all the same._**

~ CHAPTER 7 ~

Nancy was wrenched awake by the sound of a morose whining, the source of which appeared to be a handful of inches from her face. She flickered her eyes open and flinched as the wet, brown eyes of Bullseye gazed back at her.

'Good morning,' she mumbled flatly.

Bullseye responded by panting and giving Nancy an affectionate lick on her cheek. She groaned and wiped it away with her sleeve, rolling over and nearly squashing Bet in the process. A muffled squeak emitted from under the covers and Bet emerged, bleary-eyed.

'The dog's hungry again,' Nancy explained, rolling back over and heaving herself upright. She winced as she did so; her ribs were still tender and the movement made them twinge in protest. Bullseye sat back on his haunches and cocked his head to one side, lifting one front paw and then the other. Nancy watched him and thought that if dogs were capable of such expression, he'd have his lips pursed in impatience.

'Is there any stew left?' Bet muttered, her face planted resolutely in the pillow.

Nancy got out of bed with great reluctance and pattered over to the stove, where a large pot sat. She peered into it and gave the measly remains of beef stew an uncertain stir with a nearby wooden spoon.

'There's a tiny bit. It'll have to do.'

She reached for a bowl, still dirty from dinner last night, and scraped the last of the stew into it. She set it down in front of Bullseye and he fell upon it, his head moving the bowl around the room as he furiously devoured every morsel.

Bet heaved herself out of bed and wrapped a shawl around her shoulders. She walked over to stand next to Nancy and the two of them watched Bullseye with wide eyes.

'What are we going to do with him?' Bet asked, repeating her question from the night before.

'I'll take him to The Three Crowns later on. They know him there.'

Bullseye lifted his head up to meet the girls' gaze, licking his lips. He looked between his bowl and Nancy several times, as if expecting more food to appear.

'That's all there is, pooch,' Nancy whispered with a sympathetic shrug, crouching down and holding out her hand to him. He trotted over and she stroked him, tutting as he whined quietly. He sniffed at her dress, nuzzling in her pockets and dropping his head when he found nothing. Nancy sat cross-legged and he lay down with his head in her lap, letting out a disgruntled sigh.

'Where's he been all this time, do you think?' Bet wondered aloud, sitting down next to Nancy and patting the dog gently. 'It's been nearly a week since…'

Nancy bristled and twisted her mouth, 'I don't know. He must have scarpered when…' she faltered, biting her lip against completing the sentence. Bet patted her shoulder, as she had done with Bullseye, and Nancy inhaled deeply. 'It's one of the last things I remember seeing before – um. Bloody hell,' she cursed as her voice wobbled and her eyes prickled, 'He was scratching at the door. Trying to escape.'

Bet wrapped an arm around Nancy's shoulders, cradling her head in the crook of her neck. 'Sorry I asked,' she murmured.

Nancy wiped her thumbs under her eyes, sighing. She scratched Bullseye behind his ears and he burrowed his head further into her lap in response.

'Do you fancy going out? I could do with some fresh air,' she asked Bet, her voice tense. Bet nodded with a smile and stood up, holding out her hand to help Nancy to her feet. Bullseye stood, panting, looking at the girls expectantly.

'Come on, old dog,' Nancy sighed.

The bells struck nine o'clock just as the girls left the lodgings. Deciding against going to the market, they ventured in the other direction, arms interlinked and heads tilted towards one another, walking in companionable silence. Bullseye trotted at their heels, sometimes brushing against their legs and sometimes pressing his nose to the floor in search of food.

Nancy watched as a magistrate cycled alongside them and twisted her mouth in contemplation.

'Where did you say they were holding Fagin?' she asked Bet, still looking after the magistrate as he sped off out of sight.

Bet glanced at Nancy, surprised at the question, 'Newgate,' she answered.

'How long?'

'Hm?'

'How long has he got?'

Nancy voice was shaking and Bet stopped walking to take her hands in her own.

'He was sentenced while you was in Bart's. I didn't know whether to tell you or not. I -'

'How long has he got?' Nancy repeated steadily, looking down and frowning.

'The day after tomorrow.'

Nancy shivered and felt an emptiness in the pit of her stomach; the emotion which fuelled it was one she couldn't define. She squeezed Bet's hands and sniffed, bringing her eyes up to meet the girl's gaze.

'It's not far from here, is it?'

'Nancy, are you sure?'

'It's not far?'

Bet scoffed quietly at Nancy's stubbornness and turned her head towards the direction they were headed. 'No, it's not far.'

Nancy nodded firmly and set off, clicking her fingers at Bullseye for him to follow her. Bet scampered after her, struggling to keep up. She clutched her shawl around her shoulders with one hand, and the other was used to propel herself forward into a run as Nancy sped off through the streets. She cursed under her breath as she caught her up.

'What's the rush, Nance?' she cried in exasperation.

Nancy didn't reply. The pair of them kept running, followed closely by Bullseye, until they reached the formidable stone walls of Newgate Prison. They slowed down, breathing heavily and leaning against the brickwork.

'Nance, what are you doing?' Bet asked, her question punctuated by heavy pants as she fought to get her breath back.

'I need to see him,' Nancy said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. She leaned off the wall and made her way to the cavernous archway which marked the entrance to the prison, craning her neck up to scan her eyes over the building. Bet shook her head and followed after her, but was halted by Nancy turning to face her and holding her hands up.

'Bet. Bet, I need to be alone,' she said quietly.

'You want to go in _here_ by yourself?' Bet questioned in disbelief.

'I'll be fine. You wait here with the dog.'

'But -'

'No. I won't be long, I promise.'

Nancy gave Bet's hands a quick squeeze and walked through into the prison courtyard. She noticed a guard nearby and approached him, feeling her heart beating in the top of her mouth. The guard slid his eyes over to scan her up and down as she moved to stand in front of him.

'Um. Excuse me,' Nancy began, looking at her boots.

'What?' the guard barked. Nancy flinched.

'I want to visit someone. Where's Fagin?'

'Fagin? Why?'

Nancy winced as she struggled to think of a response which wouldn't immediately paint her as a crook.

'I'm a – I'm a friend.'

'A friend?'

'Please, can I just see him?'

The guard scanned his eyes over the girl again and then shrugged. 'I suppose,' he grumbled.

He marched towards one of the wings of the prison and Nancy scuttled after him, gripping her elbows. She watched as he unlocked a door with one of the thick keys on his belt, grinned at her, then slipped inside.

The sight which met Nancy's eyes as she followed the guard inside made her shudder. It was dark, musty, crowded and noisy; a sickening reminder of where she'd end up if her good fortune ever wore off. The guard led her past the cells, occupied by shrivelled shells of men. Some of them shouted out as they walked past, and some leered at Nancy, reaching through their bars to grasp at her dress. The guard immediately rapped their knuckles with his baton and they retreated, hissing like snakes.

Finally, they reached the end of the wing and Nancy was met with the sight of Fagin. Fagin the Jew, as he had so often been labelled. Canny, clever Fagin. Fagin who had taken Nancy in off the streets when she was just a child. Fagin who had taught her the ways of crime and thievery. Fagin, who sat before her now as a broken old man.

The guard left Nancy alone, and she moved closer to the bars of Fagin's cell. She looked at him as he sat on the wooden bench, facing away from her. His oily hair sat in straggles down his back and she could see that he was trembling. Whether trembling with cold, or trembling with contemplation, she couldn't tell.

'Fagin,' she whispered.

He didn't move.

'Fagin,' she repeated, clearer now. She wrapped her hands around the cool iron bars and rested her face against them, keeping her eyes on the old man as he turned around to look at her.

The expression flickering across Fagin's face as he looked at Nancy was not one of recognition, or even something approaching pleasure at her being there. It was one of fear. Wide-eyed, beaded-browed, fear.

'Impossible,' he breathed, his voice barely above a croak.

Nancy frowned, but said nothing. She studied Fagin as he wrapped his arms around his skinny frame and whimpered, 'How – how are you here? How – I don't – you're not -'

'What?' Nancy said, eyeing Fagin as he rocked himself back and forth, 'What do you mean – I'm not here?'

Fagin only whimpered more loudly in response, his breathing hitching as he grew more panicked.

'Fagin,' Nancy said with as much firmness as she could summon, 'What's wrong?'

'You're _dead_ ,' he blurted suddenly, his strangled shout echoing through the damp chamber, 'You're a ghost. You're not here. You're – you're dead.'

He repeated the words "you're dead" feverishly, in time with his rocking.

Nancy removed her hands from the bars as quickly as if they had burned her and watched Fagin in horror.

'I told him. I said she peached. She peached and we'd be hanged. It's the gallows for us, Bill. I said. She's dead. He killed her. He said he'd kill her.'

Fagin's muddled ramblings crawled over Nancy's skin and she trembled. She clamped a hand over her mouth and stumbled around, running away from him. Her chest was clamped and she couldn't breathe. Strangled sobs forced their way out of her throat as she blundered out of the jail, blinking as the sunlight stung her eyes. She couldn't see, couldn't think, just pelted blindly forwards until she fell into Bet's arms and her knees buckled.

'What on earth?' Bet cried in bewilderment.

Nancy couldn't speak, instead collapsing to the ground and curling up as if she was a child. Bet crouched down next to her and patted her shoulder in some attempt to console her, but it had little effect.

'Nancy, what happened?'

A fevered shake of the head was the response, as Nancy gripped her knees against her chest and screwed her face up. It was if she was trying to disappear, willing the cobbled streets to open up and envelop her.

'Nancy, you're scaring me.'

Bullseye circled Nancy's shaking form, whining and barking in distress.

'It's because of him,' Nancy eventually whispered, her voice barely above a squeak. She still lay curled up on the ground, still trembling.

'What?'

'He told Bill.'

Bet pieced the fragmented explanation together and then gasped as the realisation hit her. Without a word, she pulled Nancy to her feet and ushered her back home. They needed to get away from the prying eyes of the scattering of passers-by who had gathered to watch the spectacle.

They reached the lodgings and walked inside. Nancy staggered as she moved, as if she was drunk, and Bet gripped her wrist as she guided her into her room and got her to sit on the bed. Bullseye climbed up to sit next to her, placing a paw on her lap and gazing up at her. Nancy made no response, shrunken inside her dress, shutting her eyes as hot tears leaked through her lashes. Bet sat on the other side of her and rubbed a circle on her lower back, and the three of them sat in a pregnant silence.

 ** _I struggled a bit writing this chapter, and it hasn't quite turned out the way I imagined, but I hope you liked it all the same. Do let me know what you think!_**


	8. Chapter 8

**_I'm very sorry (again) for the slow update but I have something of an excuse this time: my computer broke because I'm a silly sausage. Hope you enjoy!_**

~ CHAPTER 8 ~

A few misty, distant days plodded by. Nancy felt numb, never quite summoning the strength to speak, or even lift her head fully. Bet was patient, and gentle, and understanding, for the first couple of days, but then even she started to grow weary of Nancy's unmitigated moroseness. It was on the fourth day that she finally spoke up. The girls were sharing a bread roll for breakfast, sat on Bet's bed, careless of the crumbs falling to the floor (they were soon taken care of by Bullseye).

'Nance, you've not spoken in three days,' Bet observed glumly. She watched as Nancy tore a chunk of bread off from the roll and pressed it between her fingers, frowning.

'Nance? Why don't you say something?'

Nancy didn't answer. She just kept pressing the bread between her finger and thumb until it was a hardened lump.

'Nancy? _Stop_ it!' Bet snapped, slapping the bread out of Nancy's hand. Nancy flinched, shaking her head in bewilderment as if she'd been sluiced with ice-cold water.

'Sorry,' she said, her voice barely above a hoarse whisper.

Bet immediately felt a sickening pang of guilt in her stomach. She looked at Nancy as she sat slumped across from her. She'd got thinner. She saw a glimpse of the petulant, hurt child she'd known when they were both in Fagin's gang, now traced in her furrowed brow and weary eyes. She reached out and touched the top of Nancy's hand, but Nancy withdrew it and lay down, pulling her knees up to her chest.

'Nance, please don't be like this,' Bet said, her voice wavering, 'I – I'm trying. I'm trying to help. Please, Nancy.'

Bet finally gave in and began to cry. Exhausted tears pushed down her cheeks and she stood up to take a walk around the room, rubbing the back of her neck and fixing her gaze anywhere except the sight of her friend, her sister, lying silent on the bed.

'Nancy, I'm going out. I need some air,' she choked out, shuddering and grasping for her shawl.

She hovered in the doorway for a moment or two, but when Nancy again made no answer, she left.

Nancy shut her eyes, clutching her stomach in attempt to quell the tightening knots which had manifested there. She felt the bed dip slightly as Bullseye jumped up and padded around to sit behind her. She felt his paw on her back and it comforted her. Rolling over, she wrapped an arm around Bullseye and drew him closer. The pair of them lay there, curled up together in quiet companionship.

Nancy wasn't sure how long had passed before Bet crept back into the room, but the dog had jumped off the bed to greet her with his tail wagging in anticipation of food. Bet tossed him a sausage and then moved to perch on the edge of the bed. Nancy heaved herself up and turned around, seeming to avoid Bet's gaze until the last possible moment. When she did bring herself to meet Bet's eyes, she bit her lip at the sight of her friend: eyes red-rimmed and eyebrows raised.

'Are you going to talk to me now?' Bet questioned, her voice steady.

'Bet, I'm sorry. Okay? I'm sorry,' Nancy murmured.

'I just wish you'd talk to me, Nance.'

'I know.'

'I know you've had a rough couple of weeks -'

Bet stopped herself when she saw Nancy arch an eyebrow at her apparent understatement.

'Well, alright – I can't imagine how this has all felt. I can't. But Nance,' Bet paused, fixing her gaze on her hands as they lay clasped together in her lap, 'It's been a rough couple of weeks for _me_ , too.'

Nancy dropped her head and nodded. She scooted closer to Bet and wrapped an arm around her shoulder, pressing a kiss to her temple.

'So. Anything to say?' Bet continued, leaning her head on Nancy's shoulder and sighing, 'If you keep all of this inside you, it'll only hurt you more.'

She felt Nancy nod once more and paid attention, waiting for her to speak.

'It's just… The two most important men in my life just…' Nancy began, tilting her head to the ceiling in the hopes that some semblance of sense would manifest itself there.

Bet wrapped both arms tightly around Nancy and frowned.

'You've got me,' she said with a fierce firmness.

Nancy smiled.

'Thank God for that.'

The girls' gazes fell to Bullseye as he sat before them on the floor, tongue out and paws padding two and fro.

'What are we going to do about that bloody dog?' Bet asked with an exasperated laugh.

'I don't know,' Nancy said, 'Shall we take him to The Three Crowns?'

Her suggestion was hesitant, unsure, and Bet frowned at her.

'You don't sound like you're overly fond of that idea.'

'Well…' Nancy twisted her mouth and patted the bed next to her, inviting Bullseye to jump up. He did so, lying down next to her and nuzzling his head into her lap.

'He doesn't look like _he's_ overly fond of that idea neither,' Bet observed with raised eyebrows. She sighed in contemplation and reached over to scratch Bullseye behind his ears. Nancy puffed out her cheeks and scanned her eyes around the room: it was homely but dirty, humble but sparsely furnished. Hardly a nice environment for a dog.

'We can't keep him, can we?' Nancy murmured.

Bet sniffed and shrugged, 'I _want_ to, he's a good dog, but he's half-starved and I've got barely any money what with the rent being what it is… and _you're_ in no fit state to work anyway. I just don't know.'

Nancy furrowed her brow and patted Bullseye's side, 'That's that then. I'll take him. It's not like we'll never see him again.'

'Are you sure?'

'Yeah. You're right. It'll be better for him there.'

'Nance -'

'I'll see you later.'


End file.
